


Forbidden Arts

by flowerheadfreak



Series: The Gift of Magic [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerheadfreak/pseuds/flowerheadfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Warden succumbs to her curiosity, she must hide her new power from the person she trusts the most...doing the craziest things to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Arts

They had asked her to find the ancient Scrolls of Banastor, but had they really expected her not to look?  The scrolls had a peculiar look about them, a certain sort of glow she’d never seen.  An aura of evil?  She highly doubted that. 

_I can handle anything, I swallowed darkspawn blood _and_ survived, hadn’t I?  I discovered how to control storms at will, to create a spiraling inferno explode from the sky.  I managed the Harrowing, a simple look at these scrolls won’t kill me, I’ll just be…dabbling, as Jowan once called it, besides it’s for the greater good.  I’m saving Ferelden, I have to use every resource I can, just can't show Wynne, that's all._

She unraveled the ancient scrolls, the dust piquing her interest.  How curious, no one had touched these scrolls in what must be centuries, but those had done so before must’ve held an incredible power in their palms.  It was a forbidden art, but Leliana said once that the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest…the _strongest._

Arabelle knew Wynne’s opinion of blood magic, her never-ending hatred of those who practice it.  She loved Wynne, truly, she did. Wynne was the closest person to be a mother, or more appropriately, _grandmother_ she’s ever had.  But she’s too close-minded, which drove Arabelle to hide her curiosity to the privacy of her tent. 

She sat her bottom on the dirt floor, legs criss-crossed, hunched over the scrolls.  A small flame burst from her small palm and she held it over the scroll, intending to use it as light.  Candle usage made no sense to her ever since she discovered how to command fire whenever she pleased.

Everyone but Morrigan and Shale was asleep, so she didn’t worry about anyone busting into her tent with important news.  Wide-eyed with excitement with hint of rebellion, she read word for word for what seemed like a short time.  This is what Irving and Greagoir “shielded” the Circle from?- To use whatever resource they could to cast spells? - To boil the blood of your opponent? –To twist the strength of your enemy against him? Although this power interested her, her honor prevented her from even thinking of risking the lives of those around her.  No demon talk either.  She skipped a section, but continued further.

“Warden?” The entrance of her tent flapped open adruptly, making Arabelle’s skin jump from her body.

“Morrigan!” she gasped, instinctively closing her palm quickly into fist to extinguish the light. 

“What-what are you hiding there, Warden?” the Witch demanded.  Her question gave the Warden enough time to slip the scroll underneath her robes in the dark.

“Oh, nothing Morrigan,” she replied coolly, re-lighting the fire in her palm.  Morrigan might be a Chasind woman, but she was no fool.  The item Arabelle held not too long ago was a scroll, and the only scrolls in their possession were the Banastor scrolls.

“I have come here to share some disturbing news about Flemeth, only to find something even more interesting.  I knew you were lying when you said you believed you did not feel at all like a caged bird,” Morrigan said, satisfied.

Arabelle stood up, not taking her eyes off of Morrigan as she did so.  Her face was unreadable, something she’d picked up from Sten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morrigan,” she began. “You came here with a problem, what is it?”

“T’would seem you also have a ‘problem.’  Don’t think you can fool me, your lies might work on that idiot Alistair, but I know manipulation when I see it.”

She _would_ know deception, she practically sits on the _throne_ of manipulation.

“Fine, you caught me,” Arabelle sighed, revealing the scroll.

Morrigan chuckled.  “I thought so.  But I would do the same.  T’is only the sur-“

“Survival of the fittest, yes, yes, yes.  How long are you gonna be singing _that_ song, sister?”  Arabelle muttered impatiently.  “I got curious.  I’ll stop now.”

“Why?  I say take advantage of the scrolls.  If you won’t, I will.”

Arabelle’s eyes brightened with childlike joy. 

“Maybe…we can learn together, yeah?” she requested, she wanted at least one person she could speak of this to…to trust.

“Interesting offer, Warden.  Perhaps I could use this power in the future.  ”

“It’s a plan, then- and by the way, call me Abby.  So what else did you want to talk about?”

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

There was something different with that girl, Wynne convinced herself.  The old woman watched in shock when her friend crushed multiple darkspawn alive at once with an unknown telekinetic force.  Where had she learned that spell?  Wynne was experienced, she knew every trick in the spell book, but she’d never seen anything so powerful.

_The girl is talented.  It’s probably an arcane spell.  Only she somehow learned how to use it against multiple things at once._

When they returned to camp, something occurred to Wynne that she would’ve never considered had she not been thinking about Jowan.__

_Blood magic…No, no, Abby would not do something so unwise.  How could I even doubt our fearless leader?  She’d done so many good deeds, she’s pure.  More self-control than I’ve ever seen in such a young mage, surely this new spell is just…_

Could she lie to herself like this?  No, she couldn’t.  She’d have to confront Arabelle, to ask her if she’s done anything stupid, or more bluntly, _forbidden._

She looked around in the camp from where she stood, searching for the small but potent elf.  Ah, there she was…with _Morrigan?_  This can’t be too good, Wynne told herself as she walked towards the far end of the camp.  Arabelle’s back was facing Wynne, but the old woman saw the girl moving her hands in a small motion.  Concealing a spell?

_What is she doing?_

Once Wynne reached Morrigan’s solitary end of the camp, the Witch deliberately looked away.  Her disdain towards Wynne was obvious, and the feeling was mutual.

“Abby I need to speak with- what in the name of the Maker are you doing?”

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Arabelle froze when she saw Morrigan’s scorn-face.  Heart pumping loudly as if it was a bronto running for its life, she buried the scroll in her robes again.  As she dropped her hand from her robe, it caught onto something.  No matter where it was, she frantically tried shaking it out.  Stupid mage robes, they had too many knick-knacks.

“Abby I need to speak with- what in the name of the Maker are you doing?”

Arabelle now saw that her hand was caught on a hook…in the most unfortunate of places.  She turned around, hand still touching her…_area_ when she answered, “Uh nothing Wynne.”  Morrigan snorted upon seeing Arabelle’s situation, quite loudly in fact.

She sprung her hand free, blood rushing to her face, she now realized it looked like she was rubbing her private place. Her nervousness was mistaken for embarrassment on Wynne’s part.

“That is not hygienic at all!  When was the last time you bathed, girl?”  Wynne demanded, wagging her finger like a mother to a child.  “Is that what you do here? Unsanitary things?”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Arabelle said softly, lowering her head in false shame.  She was delighted things had turned out the way they did, if they hadn’t she knew Wynne wouldn’t have forgotten about what she saw today, Arabelle saw the look on her face, she saw that Wynne was…stunned.  She hoped to pass it off as an arcane spell if she ever asked.

“Yes, well me too!  I don’t even know why I came here.  I’ll leave you two to your…heinous habits.”

The elf watched as Wynne walked away.  She couldn’t help but laugh as soon as the spirit healer was far enough away, Morrigan all but scoffed.  Arabelle would have to be more careful with the things she learned, once you get passed the part about hurting others, blood magic wasn’t all that evil.  Well, unless you don’t ignore the interacting with demons part.  Self-control is what was needed in this.  And caution.

She turned back to Morrigan, more eager to learn than before.  This time they were to go without interruption.

_Without interruption..., _she thought as she held the power of the forbidden arts in her hands, _nor regret._


End file.
